The day you discover your darling babies' gifts can no longer be found in the cute cuddly, wuddly, fuzzy toy aisle is almost as bad as the day you discover all those pints of ice cream *do* end up on your hips.
They're ten. Ten. My babies. Wah.
mommy
They're ten. Ten. My babies. Wah.
mommy

Comments
I'm sure they are the best kids ever, though <3
Sigh, just weepy over gift wrapping right now. Pay no mind.
But I don't want them to go.
Ten is a magical age. They will still hug and cuddle but won't argue the point black and blue....yet.
sniffle.
Sigh.